


Listen to Your Hart

by aleksrothis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Goalie Nesting (Hockey RPF), M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: It's been over a decade since the Flyers last had a nesting goalie and Claude has never had to do this before.When Carter starts nesting, can Claude step up?
Relationships: Claude Giroux/Carter Hart
Comments: 32
Kudos: 249
Collections: Hockey Holidays 2019





	Listen to Your Hart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hock_hug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/gifts).



Carter’s pretty excited for the start of the season, as he settles into his own place in Philly for the first time, rather than a hotel. Sure, it’s just an apartment, not a fancy place out in Haddonfield or whichever suburb the older guys live in, but it’s his.

He’s never lived on his own before either so it feels like every other day he’s back at Target or wherever picking up something he’s missing - kitchen essentials, spare towels, a throw blanket, cushions - trying to make it feel like home.

There’s just always something still missing, something he can’t find at the store.

Becoming a starting NHL goaltender has been Carter’s dream since he was small. Playing for Canada, even winning gold, had been amazing but it hadn’t stopped the part of him that yearned for more.

It doesn’t really sink in for Carter that he's made it until Moose kneels for him after the season-opener. Of course, getting given the first game was a pretty good indication of the Flyers' intentions for him but Carter had been too busy trying to forget the sting of being pulled against Lausanne to give it that much thought. Now, having beaten the Hawks here in Prague, Carter has to acknowledge what it means, even if he doesn’t feel qualified to offer up whatever support a starter is supposed to give to their back-up.

Last year Elliott had ostensibly been the starter, though they’d been through so many injuries and changes in goaltender that this particular tradition had fallen by the wayside by the time Carter had been called up. Or at least no-one had ever suggested Carter should be kneeling for anyone.

Carter gives Giroux a panicked look across the room, even as he lays a shaky hand on Moose’s head. As goaltenders, they both feel the weight of the city’s expectations, and the knowledge of Philadelphia’s record with goalies doesn’t help.

The season goes on with them splitting starts like a tandem, Carter having a slight edge, but Moose keeps deferring to him. Which would be fine except Carter doesn’t know what he’s doing. It was pretty rare to have team bonds in Juniors and there hadn’t been anyone on the Silvertips with the force of personality to maintain one. 

Carter had expected to have time to accustom himself at the NHL level, a veteran mentor, but it hadn’t happened. He hadn’t even really had long enough in the AHL to figure out his own routine and making the show is different yet again.

The pressure continues to get to him but Carter thinks he’s doing a good job at not showing it in public. At least no-one's said anything to him so it must not be leaking into the bond either. And that's the other source of his worry.

Everyone knew that kneeling in the NHL isn’t just for show, not like in Juniors, rather it's tied into the team bond. Carter barely knows what to do with his own connection to it, let alone anyone else’s so he does the bare minimum for Moose and flees to G at every opportunity. Only when he’s kneeling for G, with his captain's hand in his hair does Carter feel he can breathe properly. Their captain is the only person he can turn to but Carter can't bring himself to ask about the still-distant bond.

Trying to make it feel more like he belongs here, Carter finds himself collecting stuff into his stall: odd socks, wadded up tape, sawn-off stick ends, spare laces. 

It's just past American Thanksgiving when AV waves for him to head off the ice after practice, since he’s supposed to be starting that night, and Carter can't bring himself to leave the net. The thought of leaving it empty makes him feel nauseous and the idea of walking into an empty locker room, away from his team, is almost panic-inducing and it finally clicks. He's nesting.

The team bond rears up in his mind, almost overwhelming after so long quiescent. Carter hunches down, shaking his head, unable to find his voice to let anyone know what is happening. There is a rushing sound in his ears and it is drowning out the logical thoughts trying to come up with a plan.

Practice grinds to a halt, the rest of the team milling around looking nervous until Dillabaugh, their goalie coach, approaches. "Are you alright there, Hartsy?"

Carter knows Dilly really means is he injured and, though he isn’t hurt, Carter isn't sure he is alright. That doesn't mean he's ready to admit that in front of the team though, so he stays in his position. 

"Can I get you anything?" Dilly persists, coming closer. "Is there anyone you want?"

"G," Carter says instantly. G will know what to do, how to make this feeling go away.

Dilly gives him a long look over, then retreats to the other end of the ice and Carter almost calls him back. He doesn't want to be alone but the wide expense of the rink feels too much to brave. He hunkers back into his net, patting the posts and crossbar for reassurance.

G and Dilly have a brief conversation, while Carter lets his gaze drift across the rest of the team, checking on them. Too many people missing from injuries and it makes him feel uneasy.

Carter tips his helmet back as Claude skates over to join him, though it makes him feel vulnerable without the safety of the cage across his face.

"What's up, Carter, baby?" G asks. If Carter's nesting is making him nervous, it doesn't show in his expression.

Carter bites his lip, not sure if he can articulate how he's feeling. He skates out of the net a little way, trying to herd Claude back into it with him.

Claude easily evades his clumsy attempt to catch him. "You don't want to stay out here on the ice all night, do you Hartsy?"

He kind of does. His face feels warm and Carter wants to lay down on the cool ice and let the chill seep through his pads. He wants to be like ice so all the words from the press, from fans, can't touch him. Carter had always heard that Philly ate goalies but, even with all the turnover last year, he hadn't really believed it.

Claude must be able to read some of this on his face because he wraps his arms around Carter, as though he'd just won them a game, and lets him rest his face in the crook of his neck. It helps, some of the pressure inside him bleeding off.

Carter shivers and Claude pulls him with him, skating backwards towards the gate. Carter can't help but glance over his shoulder at his empty net, even as he follows his captain off the ice. 

"It's okay," Claude reassures him, raising his voice so it carries to the whole team. "No-one's going to put any pucks into it without you there to defend it."

They all nod with a chorus of, "For sure" and "Of course not." It makes Carter feel better that no-one seems angry or upset with him. Moose, in the other net, tips his helmet back and smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, Hartsy, I'll keep them in line."

In the locker room, G lets Carter herd him into his stall and then Carter prowls the room. It isn't quite right, not the same as defending his net. His steps stumble here, rather than gliding smoothly.

All the scents of the room are sharp and not entirely pleasant but Carter feels as though he could name each of them. He wants to wallow in the smell of team but what he wants isn’t here, it’s the sweaty odour at the end of a hard fought win when they come to him.

G gives him a smile or a thumbs up every time Carter looks in his direction but he’s glancing around the room as though he’s missing something.

It’s getting harder to focus but Carter doesn’t want his captain to be unhappy so he tries to figure out what’s wrong. They were most of the way through practice so perhaps he’s hungry or thirsty?

Carter checks G’s stall, looking for any favourite snacks he might have stashed in it, like some of the others do, but there is only a half-drunk bottle of gatorade. He offers G the bottle hopefully.

“Thanks Hartsy.” G takes the bottle but doesn’t drink. Instead he gives a half-smile which doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t suppose you could pass me my phone?”

Carter frowns, his mind so focused on hockey that for a moment he doesn’t even remember what a phone is. Then he catches sight of his own phone on the shelf and he tentatively reaches up over G and then passes it down to him.

“That’s great, Hartsy,” G says soothingly. “Can you get _my_ phone? I don’t think you have the right people in yours.”

Carter feels his eyes filling with tears. He did the wrong thing and G is disappointed with him.

“Hey, no, you’re doing great, Hartsy,” G is quick to say. He holds out a hand and waits until Carter reaches out with his glove hand. 

G wraps his hand around Carter’s wrist and pulls him closer. Carter can feel the heat coming off him. G reaches up to place his other hand on the bars of his face cage. Carter wishes it was touching his actual face and pushes his helmet off, resting it carefully on its shelf, so G can.

G immediately runs his fingers through Carter’s sweat-damp hair. It feels so good and Carter pushes his face into G’s shoulder so he doesn’t stop. G’s hand works down his neck, releasing tensed muscles but a sudden noise puts Carter back on alert.

He pulls away, grabbing his cage and turning to face the threat. Except it’s just the rest of the team coming off the ice with practice finished.

Most of the team hang back, several looking nervous, but Nisky pushes forward, hands held out in front of him in the universal symbol of meaning no harm. Carter approaches him tentatively, stopping just a couple of feet away. “You’re good,” Nisky says, in a low crooning tone, sounding practiced, raising his hand as though offering it to Carter. Some instinct has him leaning forward to sniff at it and immediately he wants to bury his face in the scent. A part of his brain is telling him this is ‘team’ and he knows that’s good.

Nisky lets Carter rub his face against his hand and then follow the scent up his arm until his nose is pressed into Nisky's neck. Carter is vaguely aware of someone, he doesn’t quite recognise the voice, just the American accent, telling the rest of the team what he needs from them.

When Carter pulls away from Nisky, Hayesy is up next. He's already pulled his jersey off and after Carter has filled his nose with his scent, he hands it over. Carter hugs it to himself, realising that's exactly what he wants - a part of each of them to take away with him. Soon his arms are full with jerseys and he’s managed to directly scent more than half the team. His mind feels clearer now, or maybe hyper-focused, like he feels when he's in the net.

When it’s Couts turn, he lets Carter nuzzle at his neck but keeps moving. Carter grumbles as he follows. The scent changes, the air growing more humid and then Carter registers the rumbling sound of the showers. 

He doesn’t want to lose any of the team’s scent and hugs the worn jerseys to himself possessively. 

Moose emerges from the steam. “Let me keep them safe for you, Hartsy?”

Carter knows he can trust the other goaltender but it’s still hard to relinquish his treasures.

Couts winces when Carter steps under the still cold water in his under-armour but Carter ignores him to tip his overly warm face into the spray. It feels good, and he has a brief moment of clarity. This isn't what he'd imagined nesting would be like when he'd heard rumours about it in juniors, not the aching need for his team to want him, the urge to submerge himself in their scents, to claim his territory so everyone else knows the Flyers are his. 

And the heat is rising in him again that G, their captain, is letting him stake his claim. But Carter can't see Claude and suddenly he needs to rush back out to check he hasn't left, can't have left.

When he bursts back into the locker room, looking around in a panic for Claude, Reimer evidently realises what’s wrong and tries to soothe him. "G's just on the phone, Hartsy," he says. "Don't worry, he's not going anywhere without you."

It helps a little but the overwhelming panic doesn’t ease until Carter sees G for himself. Even then, he has to scent him again, though that just makes everything fuzzier. It feels as though he’s sensing everything through cotton wool while, at the same time, each individual sense is hyperalert. Every sound is loud but indistinct, scents are overpowering, his wet Under-Armour suddenly cold, heavy and uncomfortable and he needs to be out of it but he wants the familiarity of his pads.

Carter realises suddenly what he wants from G, what he needs to stabilise his place in the team bond and it makes him feel warm all over. He doesn’t have the words to explain it but he’s pretty sure G will let him and he can’t wait. 

#

It isn’t the team bond which alerts Claude to the idea that something’s wrong - regardless of what anyone says, he can’t actually read his teammates’ minds - rather the sudden hush as they bunch up over the centre line is his first clue.

When he looks up, he almost expects it to be another injury, just what they need this season, but instead AV is waving Dilly over to the net and Claude realises that the heat he is feeling is coming from Carter.

Claude doesn't know what it is that tells him Carter is nesting but he knows he's right. He immediately wants to be near him but what he is getting through the bond is confused so he stays back, letting Dilly handle it, trying not to stare. When Dilly tells Claude it's him Carter wants, he somehow manages to convince the coach that he can handle it.

Claude feels a wave of protectiveness towards the young goalie as he manages to get Carter safely off the ice. He knows Carter’s been thrown into the deep-end this year, well, and last year too and feels a wave of anger at the team management. They keep pushing these kids into the show too early and then he has to hold them together.

Back in the locker room, Claude tries to stay calm for Carter’s sake, even as his rookie goalie patrols the space as though he's trying to protect him but he’s at a loss. In all his years on the Flyers, all his years as captain, he’s never had a nesting goalie. Not one of the 20 previous goaltenders had felt the Flyers were worth it. Oh, he knows it’s a real thing, Smitty had done it after they’d won gold at the World Championship but Sid had taken responsibility for him then.

Claude’s not going to call _Crosby_ for help, not when that means admitting one of the Flyers’ deepest secrets. But who else can he go to? Danny B is his usual first port of call and maybe Danny had been around nesting goalies but as captain? Claude doesn’t know. His other option's Fleury. They aren’t friends exactly but who better than a goalie to know what they needed when nesting? Except Claude kind of has the feeling Carter might take that badly if he found out.

When Carter is distracted by the others returning, Claude manages to grab his phone and shoots Danny a quick text, “Nesting goalie - any advice?”

Couts manages to lure Carter into the showers, albeit half-dressed, giving Claude a few minutes’ breathing space.

Danny has already replied with a series of question marks so Claude calls him back. “What do I do?” he asks, as soon as Danny picks up.

“Follow your instincts,” Danny advises. “You’re a good captain, you’ll know what’s best.” 

“But he can’t even talk to me.” Claude had heard nesting goalies got non-verbal but he hadn’t expected everything to move so quickly. He’d at least thought they’d have time to talk about what Carter needed.

“He still understands what you’re saying though,” Danny says. “Just trust him and the bond.”

And therein lies part of the problem: Claude isn’t sure he trusts himself. As the years had gone on without any of their goalies ever nesting in Philly, Claude had started to wonder if it was him - if he wasn’t good enough as a captain, if they could sense that through the team bond. “What if I mess up?”

"I don't think you will," Danny tells him calmly. “Just try not to get freaked out, whatever he wants.”

That sounds somewhat ominous but, when pushed, Danny will only point out that, “all goalies are weird, Claude, and nesting brings out the worst in them.” Danny promises him it’s a good thing that Carter feels safe enough to nest with him. 

Reminded that he has had Carter kneeling for him multiple times this season, Claude hangs up feeling a little more in control of the situation. The team bond which usually sits quietly in the back of his mind outside games seems to pulse.

It isn't something Claude pays a lot of attention to but now it feels somehow incomplete. It's not that Carter isn't already part of the bond, his injury last year made sure Claude knew that, but he didn't fit into it right. None of their goaltenders ever have. Even when Carter kneels for him, Claude has always felt like he should be doing more. 

When he gets Carter, and this gear bag full of smelly practice jerseys, back to his place, it takes a little effort to manhandle the keys out of his pockets and into the lock. Carter doesn’t give Claude much of a chance to look around, heading deeper into the apartment and looking back expectantly for Claude to follow. What he does see is dark, all the blinds drawn, but he makes a note of which room is the kitchen for later.

Carter’s bedroom is dark too but Claude can just about make out piles of soft furnishings heaped on the bed. Carter may not have realised what it meant but it’s clear this hasn’t just happened and Claude feels guilty for not realising sooner. Does no-one come round here to hang out with him?

Claude doesn't get time to dwell on it as he lets Carter push him into the heaped bedclothes, wrapping his arms around the goalie to keep him close a moment longer. “You’re doing really well,” he tells the younger man.

Carter makes a chirruping sound, which Claude hopes is a good sign, before he pulls away.

Claude is then faced with another issue. He’s in his game day suit and that’s not going to be comfortable for long but he can’t exactly borrow Carter’s clothing. Except if Danny’s right about nesting goalies and scent, then maybe he’d like Claude in his clothes, even if Claude has to roll up the pant legs.

Claude starts to pull his suit off - he’s not sure it isn’t just going to end up in the pile but at least he won’t be in it. He hesitates when he realises Carter is watching him intently, head tilted to one side.

“Are you going to get out of your own things, Hartsy?” Claude asks gently. He hadn’t been able to convince Carter to change into his suit at the rink but at least they'd mostly got him out of his gear. Of course, Carter had insisted on putting some of it back on after his shower but Claude was picking his battles.

Now Carter pulls his jersey back off and hands it to Claude. It takes a moment to realise Carter wants him to put it on. Claude wrinkles his nose at the smell but if this is what his goalie needs he can do it.

Once he pulls it on, Carter makes more of the happy chirping noises, climbing practically into Claude’s lap and pressing him back onto the bed. Claude is relieved that he seems to be doing the right thing so far. He just wishes Carter was more with it to tell him what he needs. He is more aware than ever of the team bond, which now feels like a constant buzzing just under his skin.

Working on the assumption that it feels the same way for Carter, Claude wraps his arms around him again, letting his hands stroke up and down Carter’s back as the goalie presses his face into Claude’s neck. At first he just rests it there, stubble prickling Claude’s skin a little but not uncomfortable, but then he starts to rub his face against Claude, almost like a cat, trying to scent him.

Claude catches a hand in his hair. “Hey Hartsy, gently, okay?”

Carter whines and nips at the tendons of Claude’s neck. Claude tries to use his grip to pull Carter’s head back and the goalie actually growls. Claude’s stomach twists. There’s no reason for him to be scared of the rookie, but now Danny’s cryptic comments are starting to make sense. Maybe he should have tried Fleury so he’d have a better idea of what to expect, though there's no guarantee _Flower_ is anything like normal, even for a goalie.

Following his instincts, Claude holds still and lets Carter suck hickeys into his neck. If that’s the worst of it - letting the goalie mark his claim onto him as proxy for the team - he’ll be fine, but somehow Claude doesn’t think it’s going to stop there.

It would help if he knew what he’d agreed to but it was too late to back out now so he lets Carter touch him, rocking against him. Claude suddenly realises Carter is hard where he is rubbing against his leg.

“Do you need me to help you out, Hartsy?” Claude asks tentatively, resting a hand on Carter’s hip. It wouldn't exactly be a hardship and Claude knows sex can help build the bond though he can't exactly imagine doing this with Bryz or Razor. Maybe that was why they'd always struggled with goalies.

Carter looks down at him, face flushed red, biting his lip as Claude lets his hand slip slowly down to Carter’s crotch, feeling his hardness through the fabric.

He might not know anything about nesting goalies but Claude does know about giving handjobs, even if it’s been a while. He strokes him more deliberately and Carter is suddenly pushing off the last of his pads and clothes in a hurry.

The flush spreads all the way down his chest and his skin is hot as he presses back into Claude’s touch. His eyes are wide, pupils so dilated they almost look black and he’s breathing fast. His dick is fully hard and leaking precum as Claude wraps his fingers around it.

Carter makes high-pitched sounds as Claude strokes him, pushing into his touch. After he comes, Claude would have assumed they were done but Carter stays hard, which seems like more than just the quick recovery he could expect from someone Carter’s age. Oh to be 21 again, with a few minutes refractory time. The bond is still fizzing too, though it seems more settled - like a pan simmering after coming to the boil.

Carter’s eyes are glazed now as he seems to be trying to get as much of his skin in contact with Claude’s as possible. He gets a little frantic when his hands find Claude’s briefs and, with some misgivings, Claude helps him pull them off. He hopes Carter won’t be upset by the fact he isn’t hard.

Instead Carter barely seems to notice as he nuzzles into Claude’s groin. Since Claude had only managed a brief shower after practice, he doubts he smells great down there but Carter seems delighted, making happy noises as he buries his nose into Claude’s crotch. Regardless of his concerns about maybe taking advantage of his young and non-communicative goalie, Claude can’t help responding to the feeling of warm breath on his dick.

Fortunately Carter moves on, muscling between Claude’s thighs, stretching them apart until he can feel the strain. Claude gets a hand in Carter’s hair, tugging gently to get his attention. “Take it easy, Hartsy,” he says. “I’m not as flexible as you, remember.”

Carter whines but eases up, pressing almost apologetic kisses to the insides of Claude’s thighs, making him jump. Claude forces himself to relax, tipping his head back into the nest of blankets and letting Carter take what he needs. Except he was absolutely not expecting the tongue _there_. He tries to pull his legs back together, gets a hand onto Carter’s head and pushes but Carter only makes more of his high-pitched noises and ignores him.

He shouldn’t be this strong, Claude is pretty certain he outweighs him, nothing he does seems to stop the determined goalie. Admittedly, maybe he isn't trying that hard. It isn't as though he _doesn't_ want it, more that Claude has literally never had anyone do this for him before and he has no context for the sensations he is feeling.

Claude forces himself to relax and, as he does, it feels as though the bond surges, almost in approval. Despite the novelty of the act, Claude's dick is definitely taking an interest and every lick feels as though it is directly connected. After the initial shock, it isn’t as strange when Carter spreads his ass further apart and his tongue is actually pressing into him.

Claude had this one girlfriend who’d tried to talk him into letting her put a finger up there during a blowjob and he’d refused at the time. Now he thinks if he knew it would feel this good he wouldn't have stopped her. Between the physical pleasure and the warm comfort of the satisfied bond, it doesn’t take long for Claude to come and he shouldn’t be surprised that Carter wants to taste him but it is still more than he expected. He should maybe feel a little bad at how hot he finds it to watch Carter licking his fingers clean but it feels too right.

That seems to satisfy Carter’s urge to get close to him and Claude ends up with an armful of cuddly goalie, who’s asleep within moments. Claude expects to lie uncomfortably squashed under his weight and too warm from the heaped blankets but instead Carter’s steady breathing and the soothing throb of the team bond have him quickly following Carter to sleep.

#

Carter thinks he loses time, everything happening in a blur. He knows he wants to be immersed in the team and the captain is his best hope. He has to get closer, to touch every part he can, to see, to smell, to taste. 

Claude doesn’t stop him, doesn’t push him away, and as his body relaxes and lets Carter take what he needs, he can feel his bond with the team deepening. Until now, it is always just been a distant awareness, barely discernible off the ice, but as Claude surrenders to him it becomes a warm presence, filling him with comfort.

After that he doesn’t remember much. It’s all sweat and musk, muscles rippling under his hands, the bristle of stubble, Claude’s cries and his own desperate sounds. So many scents, so much sensation.

When he surfaces he doesn’t remember at first where he is, almost doesn’t recognise his own room - bed piled high with pillows, blankets and jerseys. It stinks of old sweat and sex, still appealing to something visceral inside him but he's no longer able to ignore the odour.

It is light outside but Carter has no idea what time of day it is nor how long they have been here. He tries to free himself enough from the blanket mound to check his alarm clock but is distracted by the bottle of gatorade on the bed-stand. He downs half of it before he evens think to look for Claude.

He isn’t in the bed, which is briefly distressing, until Carter registers the suit jacket still hanging on the back on the chair which he surely wouldn’t have left without, and then the sound of running water from the ensuite. 

Now he is conscious of it, Carter can actually sense Claude’s presence nearby. He can’t read his mind, nor even his emotions, whatever people say about bonds, but he has never felt the team bond with this level of awareness, such strong affinity.

Carter pushes clear of the bedding and clothing, the urge to be close to his captain not entirely quenched, and pads over to the bathroom. 

Claude looks up from where he is washing his hands as soon as Carter enters. “Hartsy. You back with me now?” His smile makes the skin around his eyes crinkle and Carter feels a wave of fondness which he isn’t sure which of them it is coming from.

Unsure how to react, Carter says awkwardly, “I think I need a shower.”

Claude’s nose wrinkles, which presumably means he agrees. He probably needs one too, dressed in just his briefs.

Carter is suddenly conscious of his own nudity and feels shy, despite how undeniably intimate they'd obviously been last night and the unmistakable marks on Claude's neck and collarbone. He wants Claude's reassurance but he doesn't know how to ask for it.

Fortunately he doesn't need to. Claude's gaze suddenly softens and he widens his stance, holding his arms out. "Hey Hartsy, come here. It's alright, you're good."

Carter shakes in his embrace, not crying but just overwhelmed. It’s as though a fog is clearing, and he can feel something more than himself, warm and bright. Claude is at the centre of it and Carter thinks this is what the nesting was all about.

As Claude pulls him into the shower, Carter feels the bond settling, leaving him feeling grounded, secure in his position both on the team and in Claude’s affections.

This is his team, now and forever.


End file.
